I bend to be formed,
not torn or broken
but tempered by heat,
a fire so hot
the white is all
You see of me.
I said “change” and “grow”
and I’m bent so low
this shape of me
is screaming–
melting brass in Your
hands, forged by
tools so strong
I fear the breaking.
But I’m bound to bend,
be shaped, sheared
shown anew
the sound of me,
the shine of me,
gleaming glory.
Yes, choosing to bend
not break,
become the beautiful
breath of sudden sound
built by your Spirit (breath)
living notes
played through me
a golden song borne on the wind….
~~~~~~~~~~
The last few weeks have been a challenge for me, serving my husband as he convalesces.
It’s been hard.
It’s been hard.
But God always manages to take the hard and make it easier when I get it down on paper.
I posted this over at my other place ‘another facet’ earlier this week and thought you might enjoy it, too.
Linking with the lovely Emily over at Imperfect Prose Thursdays.
The fire is our conscience. And to some the heat is terrible. The conscience can be terrible, and it will, to some, be an eternal fire. To think of it mending you, as you do, is nice, of course. But I prefer to have it like a camp fire. 🙂
“the white is all you see of me.” wow. purity. righteousness. that's all we see, when someone serves. so true. a powerful write, friend. may God give you strength as love on others.
Praying for sweet surprises as you serve your guy.
Fondly,
Glenda
Beautiful poem…it's one I want to keep and pull out when needed…
Bending not breaking… what a powerful imagery! The fact that fire is needed to do that – ouch and yet beautiful at the same time…
Oh, so beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with us. this has really ministered to me today.
Wow. The first stanzna is so powerful. The white hot image is great.
I read your poem aloud, as I REALLY liked the sound of the words you chose! And, the final stanza was breathtaking.
Laurie that is the nicest compliment I've ever been given about a poem. I am quieted with thanks.
I felt the strength in your lines… nice
… especially love final stanza. Beautiful.
I felt like I was watching a ballerina.
whew…nice intensity…the molding, making and refining of us def comes with some bending and maybe even a bit of screaming…smiles.
Oh, yeah, I like this, Jody Lee! Wonderful metaphore!